


swing, batter batter

by thekardemomme



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Childhood Friends, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 05:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14846378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: Steve Rogers loves baseball, and he loves Bucky Barnes. Sometimes, these two things coincide.(Or: Steve Rogers takes a trip around the bases.)





	swing, batter batter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvensDramaticShenanigans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvensDramaticShenanigans/gifts).



> Oh god, where do I even start? This fic is a birthday gift for one of my absolute best friends, Mack. Otherwise known as Kenzie, Maccas, Kenzie Kenz, biscuit, soulmake, etc. The reason she's my soulmake (no, that's not a typo) isn't because we were predestined to meet and be friends (although that's debatable, all things considered), but because we chose to be. We chose to become friends and stay friends after the IT/stranger things streams from Hell and the server from Hell and every little twist and turn life threw at us. We chose to be friends, we chose to stream every single Nick Robinson movie together, we chose to dedicate a week of our lives to writing Spierfeld and support each other through it, we chose to come to each other when we have to rant about bullshit, we chose to stay up way later than we should, we chose to enable each other and our countless fic ideas. We chose and still choose to do that, and in my opinion, that means more than any arbitrary destined meeting—even if I do remember her old url from That Time in our lives, lol.
> 
> I guess I can't speak for her, but I know why I chose to do that, and why I still choose it. Because Kenzie is one of the best people I've ever met. Kind, understanding, compassionate, genuinely funny, not afraid to speak her mind. I've never met someone that reminds me so much of myself, that seems to understand me without even trying. 
> 
> I don't really know what else to say, Mack is better with words than I am usually. So I'll just say this: 
> 
> TL;DR: I'm with you til the end of the line, and I'll love you right past it. Happy birthday, even if you are a 99.

**First base.**

Oddly enough, Steve got to first base at a baseball game. 

It was 1934, and the Dodgers had had a pretty decent season. They couldn’t afford actual tickets to the game, so Bucky and Steve sat outside the stadium instead. Bucky had found a nickel on the ground somewhere, and with it they’d bought a Coke to share and a bag of popcorn each. Steve finished his first, and moved to lay in the grass between Bucky’s spread legs, pillowing his head on Bucky’s thigh. 

Maybe to an outsider, it would’ve looked weird. But Steve didn’t think of it that way. Bucky was  _ comfortable, _ is all. 

“Another home run,” Bucky grins, thumping Steve’s forehead. “Too bad we didn’t set up behind the stadium, we might could’ve caught one of the home run balls.”

Steve hums. “Yeah, and Becca would tear it to shreds within an hour of you bringing it home.”

“I’d leave it with you,” Bucky shrugs. “You’d keep it safe.”

“Mm. I could blackmail you with it. Clean my room or I’ll ruin your ball.”

“Save those kinds of threats for the girls, Stevie.”

The innuendo made Steve’s cheeks go bright red. The thought of a girl— _ anyone— _ ever being intimate enough with him to make those sorts of threats was kind of scary. He closes his eyes and focuses on the announcer’s voice, waiting for him to say it’s the end of the game and the Dodgers won. The summer heat’s making it a bit difficult to stay curled in Bucky’s lap, but he’s not all that ready to move, either. 

Bucky sighs, flopping back in the grass. “You know, Steve, you can’t keep getting all red when people joke about sex. Don’t you want to get a girl one day? Have kids?” Steve thinks that he does, but right now he’s 16 years old, and it’s the furthest thing from his mind. “And anyhow, sex is good. You won’t ever get to experience it if you don’t loosen up. I mean, shit, ain’t no way you can be satisfied with just your hand.”

“As if I’d ever get a girl,” Steve mumbles, and Bucky sighs. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

“You haven’t?” Bucky asks, and Steve can hear his shock. “Well, why the hell not?”

“It’s not exactly by choice, jackass.”

“Well, fuck.”

Steve turns away, shifting his gaze to anything other than Bucky. It’s embarrassing, not being able to get girls when Bucky could have any girl he wanted. Hell, there’s always lines of girls waiting to dance with Bucky when he goes out. Any time he so much as suggests that one of them dance with his best friend Steve Rogers, their noses turn up. They don’t even have to look at him half the time, because they know who he is, and they know he’s too small and sickly to be any good. 

_ Of course _ he hasn’t had his first kiss yet. Who in their right mind would want to kiss him? There’s not a girl in existence who has eyes for him, no matter what Bucky says. It’s just facts. 

“Stevie,” Bucky says, like he knows he’s just upset him. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you or anything, I just find it hard to believe. You’re a real dime—”

“That’s not true and you know it.” Steve doesn’t mean to pout, he honestly doesn’t. It just sucks sometimes. It sucks to be the ugly friend, the friend that no one wants. “No one wants to kiss me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

Bucky huffs. “No, it isn’t. I know at least one person who wants to kiss you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve snorts, and Bucky nods confidently. “And who is that? The eleven year old younger sister of that girl, Evie?”

Bucky shakes his head, threading his fingers through Steve’s hair. Steve tries to swat his hand away before he can spread too much popcorn butter in his hair, but the effort is futile. “I wouldn’t mind kissing you,” Bucky admits, and Steve tenses, instantly leaving Bucky’s lap. “What? I would. Like I said, you’re a dime.”

“You can’t just say things like that,” Steve hisses, ready to clamp a hand over Bucky’s mouth should he decide to continue. “Are you crazy? You’ll get yourself killed talking like that, Jesus.”

“But it’s true. I want to kiss you.” Bucky smiles, his eyes sparkling in that mischievous way they do. It makes Steve’s chest ache. “Will you kiss me?”

“In broad daylight?”

“Sure. We’re hidden, Steve, that was the whole point of sitting here. No one can see, I promise.”

Nevertheless, Steve looked around. If anyone saw them kissing, or heard this conversation, it could mean prison. “Are you just mocking me?” Steve asks, voice low as he scans the area for any baseball fans. “Because it’s not fucking funny.” There really isn’t anyone around, but Steve’s heart still tries to break his rib cage with how hard it beats. 

“No. Kiss me. I really, really want you to.”

When Steve doesn’t move an inch, Bucky fondly rolls his eyes and chuckles. Then he sits on his knees, scooting closer to Steve until their knees are touching. Bucky smiles again, like a reassurance, and then leans in. His hands go to Steve’s cheeks, and Steve’s hands stay rooted at his own side. 

The first press of their lips is weird. It’s not the feeling that Steve anticipated, and it feels like just pressing lips against lips. But then Bucky moves, and his mouth is sort of open, and his head tilts, and the wind goes out of Steve’s lungs. And he’s kissing back, moving closer, and then it’s over. Bucky smiles at him from his safe distance away, and Steve doesn’t miss the way he scans the area to be absolutely sure no one has seen them. 

Steve, on the other hand, is shocked. Bucky seems to notice, laughing a little awkwardly. “Was it okay?” Bucky asks, and Steve nods. “I know it’s not like what you read in books, but I promise it can be better. More fireworks and sparks and all of that.” Steve almost asks if they can do it again, just to see if Steve feels anything, but he decides against it. 

He’s already felt enough, enough to scare him. There’s no way that Bucky doesn’t know that Steve is in love with him, not anymore. There’s no way he’s still oblivious, after all this time. 

“Yeah,” Steve forces out, “it was...good.”

“Good,” Bucky nods. “Now. I bet the Dodgers get 2 more homers and win the game. What do you think?”

Steve sags with both relief and disappointment. The kiss hadn’t changed anything between them, and Steve knows he should think that it’s a good thing, but it’s a bit bittersweet. Whatever. At least now he can say he’s kissed somebody. 

“Three homers,” Steve murmurs, “and one RBI.”

Bucky laughs, launching into theories and why his prediction is more accurate—all while Steve spirals into a rabbit hole, wondering why he wants to kiss Bucky again so badly. 

**Second base.**

It’s 1936, and Steve’s mother is working a late shift at the hospital, so Bucky came over. TB was going around something fierce, and the hospital rooms were filling to the brim. She spent more time at the hospital now than ever, and Steve understands why, but it just makes him nervous. What if  _ he _ gets TB, if she’s a carrier, and he can’t shake it? TB is deadly enough for people with good immune systems—it just might be the death of Steve Rogers. 

But Bucky tells him not to think like that, so he tries not to. Instead, he sits in the living room with Bucky late at night, under the same type of fort they used to build when they were kids, listening to the radio. The jazz isn’t anything particularly interesting tonight, so they just talk—about moving in together, specifically. 

“You know I worry about you, Stevie,” Bucky is saying, and Steve frowns. “Bein’ alone all the time. What if something happens, and no one’s here? What if you get sick, and your Ma’s too busy?”

“She’s never too busy.”

“That was before the TB outbreak, though. I dunno. I just think you and I could be real good together, if we shared a place. I’d be home every night to take care of your stupid ass, if you needed me.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not a charity case, Buck.”

“I know you’re not. But you’re starting to get in alla these fights now, comin’ home all bruised and battered up. I just worry.”

Steve sits up, glaring at Bucky through the dim light. “I’m not just picking fights. I stand up for people, and you know it.”

“You don’t have to do that, though. I don’t understand why you try and fight people when you know you ain’t gonna win—”

“Because no one stood up for me,” Steve snaps, and Bucky sighs. “Besides you, no one’s ever stood up for me. Why would I just stand by and watch someone get picked on? If I have somethin’ to say, I’m gonna say it. I don’t care if they punch me.”

“I care.”

“That’s on you, then,” he mumbles, rolling over so he’s facing away from Bucky. He hates when they argue like this, though it’s been happening more often now. Ever since Steve’s started getting beat up in back alleys, Bucky’s had something to say about it, and they get to fighting. Steve hates it, but he hates Bucky’s judgment more. He doesn’t need the protection, he can handle himself just fine. 

He hears Bucky sigh behind him, and then the quiet shift of the blankets. Soon enough, Bucky’s pressed against his back, and Steve’s so tense that his brittle back might just break from the pressure on it. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs, and Steve’s mind races. “I don’t mean to upset you. I just worry. I know you don’t understand it yet, but you will. One day, you’ll understand how it feels to be worried sick about someone. But I do trust you, Stevie. I know you can handle it. You just… You shouldn’t have to.” He moves back again, and Steve accepts it for what it was—a hug. “So, I, uh, went out with Evie again the other night.” He’s trying to break the tension, and Steve sighs. 

“Get anything good out of it?”

“A kiss,” Bucky says. “She wanted more, but the powder room was full and I wasn’t about to bring a girl home to Ma’s. She kept tryin’ to start somethin’ in the alley, but doin’ stuff over clothes just doesn’t do it for me anymore.”

Steve blinks. He can’t imagine being so used to being touched that being touched over clothes can’t work anymore. “She sounds real nice,” Steve says, because there isn’t much more for him to say. 

“She couldn’t understand why over the clothes was different from under. Apparently for girls it’s all the same.”

“I feel like that’s a personal preference thing.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, and Steve nods. His back is still to Bucky, and he’s thankful for that, because now Bucky can’t see his blush. “Hm. Well, what’s your preference?”

Steve scoffs, looking over his shoulder at Bucky before turning away again. “Don’t mock me. You know I’ve never been touched either way,” he mumbles, pushing his face into the pillow a bit. 

“Oh.” A quiet moment, and then Bucky’s pressed against his back again. Steve wonders if this is going to be a thing during every apology now, a hug. Bucky’s never been a real hugger. “Do you want to?”

“Want to what? Hug?”

Bucky laughs, and Steve can feel his breath on the back of his neck. “No, Stevie. Do you want to be touched?”

“Of course I do,” Steve snaps. He doesn’t know if Bucky realizes when he’s mocking Steve, or if he intends to do it. But Steve hates it when Bucky acts like it’s a no-brainer, like Steve has half of the charm and good looks that he does. “But you know no girl is into me like that. You’re the charmer, Buck, not me. Girls get one look at me and they run for the hills.”

“That’s their loss,” Bucky says, like he always does. Steve just shrugs. “But I meant, do you want  _ me _ to touch you? Because I will, if you want me to.” As if to emphasize his point, he runs his hand along Steve’s side, coming to rest on his hipbone. Steve’s mind is conflicted, but his dick isn’t. It starts to harden almost instantly. 

“Don’t joke with me, Buck.”

“I’m not. I’m serious. I wanna touch you, if you’ll let me.” Steve just nods, too embarrassed to admit how bad he wants it. Bucky smiles, and his hand slides down to cup Steve’s cock through his pants. Steve whimpers, pushing into his palm. “Already hard, hm? Beautiful, Stevie.” He runs his fingers along the print of it, and Steve gets fully hard within a handful of seconds. 

He doesn’t have the brain power to get embarrassed by it, not when Bucky is rubbing him off through his pants. He makes these short little thrusts into Bucky’s hand, biting his lip just to keep the moans at bay. 

“Bucky, fuck,” he breathes, wanting so desperately for Bucky to cut the shit and get a hand on him. “I need—” He doesn’t have to say more, because Bucky immediately slips a hand into his waistband. Except now, he’s rubbing Steve through his underwear. “Bucky.”

“What?” Bucky breathes, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I’m just touching you like I said I was gonna. Doesn’t it feel good?”

Steve only moans in response, which apparently Bucky can’t handle. Bucky presses in closer, and Steve feels him starting to grind against Steve’s ass.

“Wait,” Steve breathes out, and Bucky stops touching him. Steve rolls over, facing him. “Kiss me. Please. And let me—” He goes straight for Bucky’s waistband, ready to slip fingers underneath his boxers at Bucky’s okay.  _ Doin’ stuff over clothes just doesn’t do it for me anymore. _

Bucky swears, but rocks into Steve’s hand. Steve takes it as the consent that it is, dipping his hand into Bucky’s boxers. Bucky’s dick is smooth but firm, and felt like velvet. He was cut, too, which was a completely new sensation than what Steve was used to with touching his own. He gives a few experimental tugs, and marvels at the noises Bucky makes, marvels because  _ he’s  _ the reason Bucky is making those noises. 

They don’t try to drag it out. Bucky leans forward and slams their lips together, too much teeth and tongue and a bit of drool. It’s uncoordinated and messy, but it’s everything. Their hands make quick work of each other, Steve trying to match Bucky’s pace. He even pulls out his own trick, swiping his thumb over the head of Bucky’s cock. It makes Bucky moan sweeter than normal, and Steve is obsessed. He wants to hear that sound over, and over, and over. 

He presses his thumb just under the crown of Bucky’s dick, and just like that, Bucky’s thighs start to tremble and he’s spilling over Steve’s hand. The simple sound of Bucky’s breathy, pleasured moan of Steve’s name is enough to send Steve toppling over the edge with him. 

When they’ve both calmed down, they share one glance before collapsing into laughter. “Fuck,” Bucky says, wiping his hand off on his trousers, “we’ll have to wash our clothes before your Ma gets home.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “You can borrow some of my clothes, some of them might be big enough to fit. That underwear can’t be comfortable.”

“Sticky,” Bucky acknowledges, and it makes Steve laugh again. “So, answer my question.”

“What question?”

Bucky grins cheekily. “What’s your preference? Over or under?”

Steve laughs harder this time, shaking his head at the sheer ridiculousness of the entire thing. “Under clothes, definitely,” he manages, and Bucky moves to press in close, muffling his laughter in the crook of Steve’s neck. It tickles, but Steve likes being this close. 

“We should get cleaned up,” Steve says again. 

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, but he doesn’t budge an inch. “We should.”

Steve would later wonder whether his memory was trustworthy or not, but in the moment, he swears he feels Bucky place a kiss to his neck, soft as a bird feather. 

**Third base.**

It’s 1942, and Bucky’s orders are sitting on the kitchen table, the same place they’ve been for three days. Steve’s done crying over it. It doesn’t matter how much he begs and pleads, Bucky is going to go to war, and there isn’t shit he can do to stop it. He may not have the sense God gave gravel, at least so says Bucky—but he knows this is true. He knows there’s nothing he can do. 

Knowing that didn’t really stop him, though. He begged as much as he could, but all it lead to was fighting and Bucky going out more. Steve hated when Bucky went out, not because he didn’t trust him, but because he  _ hates _ how girls look at Bucky. He hates that girls can flirt with him and kiss him all they want, and no one will riot over it. He hates that Bucky can’t reject their advances and talk about his fella at home. He hates when Bucky comes home with lipstick on his collar, reeking of perfume, and always so apologetic. Sometimes Bucky’s guilt only makes Steve angrier. 

Steve’s always angry about something, Bucky says. Angry at the world and everything in it, for being so goddamn unfair. Steve supposes it’s true. He doesn’t remember the last time there wasn’t a subtle boiling in his gut, an ever present anger over something that wasn’t right, like bullying or legislation. He hates being so angry all the time, but there’s plenty to be angry about. Especially when Bucky isn’t around to calm him down.

Bucky’s been gone all day. He went to work, and when he gets off in the next half hour, he’ll probably go out with those dock workers he works with, the ones that call Steve a fairy when they know Bucky ain’t paying attention. Steve would never breathe a word of their taunting to Bucky, and he supposes those goons know that, because the teasing continues even when Bucky’s around. They all have to know that, if Bucky knew, he’d kick their asses and they’d be dead before they hit the ground. But Steve won’t tell. 

And anyhow, it’s not fair of him to get upset over something that’s true. He’s stuck on Bucky Barnes, and that’s a fact. He’s just lucky enough that Bucky Barnes is stuck on him, too. And Bucky’s lucky that no one’s gotten wise on it. Steve isn’t always so lucky; but then again, trouble has a way of finding Steve Rogers. 

Steve hasn’t been able to stop himself from thinking about Bucky all day long. He’s been sporting a half-chub since before lunch, and he’s only now settling into his bed where he can take care of it. Even though he and Bucky have made the decision—granted, fairly recently—to pursue a romantic relationship, it still feels odd to jerk off to the thought of Bucky. But he can’t think of anyone else, doesn’t  _ want _ to think of anyone else. 

He rubs himself off under the cover of darkness and his trousers, biting his lip to hold back any noises. He tries not to think about Bucky’s orders or about the greasy dock workers, and pretends that it’s Bucky’s rough, calloused hands on his dick instead of his own. 

He imagines Bucky’s heavy weight on top of him, pressing him against the bed. He imagines them rocking together, grinding and meeting each other’s hips. He imagines Bucky’s breathy voice in his ear, asking him to get the Vaseline from the drawer. He imagines a slick finger running around his rim, something he’d never dared to ask Bucky about. Something he hardly ever lets himself fantasize about, except for times like this, when he’s alone and Bucky won’t be home for a while. He imagines the slick press of those fingers, and then the press of something bigger, more promising. 

He gets so into it that he doesn’t hear the door shut down the hall, nor does he hear Bucky’s booted footsteps. All he can think about is biting back his own moans as he thrusts up into his own hand, his left hand itching to reach down and touch himself the way he’s imagining Bucky touching him. He doesn’t hear the bedroom door open, and he doesn’t hear Bucky’s sharp intake of breath. 

In fact, he only becomes aware that Bucky’s home when Bucky’s weight shifts the bed from where he’s sitting on the end of it. Steve nearly jumps out of his skin, pulling blankets to cover his lower half and his cheeks flaming bright red. Sure, they’ve gotten off together a few times before, and it  _ should  _ be nothing to be embarrassed about. But he is embarrassed. 

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Bucky murmurs, touching Steve’s ankle through the thin blanket. “It’s just me, Stevie.”

“Y-You weren’t supposed to be home for another couple of hours,” Steve gasps, and Bucky just smiles at him. 

“Well, I sure am glad I came home early. Look at you.” His eyes scan over Steve’s body like he wants to devour it, landing on the barely concealed bulge in the blanket. 

Steve averts his eyes. “Can we please just forget this ever happened?”

“Sure,  if that’s what you want,” Bucky nods. “Or, if you want, I can help you with that.”

Steve freezes. He’s been thinking about getting Bucky’s hands on him all day, and here Bucky is offering. Sure, he reeks of the docks and sweat, but he looks fucking beautiful as always, and there’s never a time that Steve doesn’t want Bucky to touch him. 

He looks over, meets Bucky’s eyes. “If you really want to, then… I think that would be okay.”

“Yeah? You think so?” Bucky teases, kicking off his boots and then crawling up the bed towards Steve. He stops when their noses are touching, when he only has a couple of inches of space between their mouths. “Lay back for me, baby.”  _ Baby. _ That’s a new one. Steve thinks he could get used to it. 

But Steve doesn’t comply instantly. Instead, he reaches up with his left hand (using his right hand after what his right hand had been doing was just bad manners) to cup the back of Bucky’s neck and pull him into a kiss. Bucky hums into it, running his tongue along Steve’s bottom lip until Steve opens up, leans into it. Steve’s gotten better at this, more practiced, and Bucky loves it. He’s told Steve as much. 

When Steve lays back, he expects Bucky to stay over him, kissing him silly as he works a hand down. But instead, Bucky’s lips start making a trail of kisses down the side of his neck, to his chest, towards his navel. It makes the muscles in Steve’s stomach grow taut with anticipation. 

“Mm, look what we have here,” Bucky grins, running his index finger along Steve’s clenched stomach, “maybe my fella does have some abs.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Not yet. You first.”

Steve blushes, but his legs fall open on their own accord. Bucky fits perfectly between them, like he was made to lay there and suck bruises on Steve’s hip bones. Steve’s dick lays neglected on his stomach, hard and almost leaking. He starts to reach down and touch himself again, but Bucky bats his hand away. 

“No touching,” he instructs. “I’m gonna make you feel good, baby, I promise. You just gotta trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Course I do.”

“Good. Then just lay back and let me make you feel good.”

Steve has to fist the sheets just to keep his hands occupied, in the end. Because Bucky seems more keen on teasing than actually putting a hand on Steve’s dick, even though it’s quite literally right there in his face. Bucky just takes his time kissing along Steve’s thighs, biting in some places and leaving marks in others. It takes a solid couple of minutes before Bucky finally quits, and hovers over Steve’s dick. 

“Now, you gotta tell me if this gets too much, okay? I don’t wanna hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

If Steve knows nothing else, he knows Bucky would never hurt him. So he nods. He trusts Bucky with everything in him, and he trusts him that this will feel good. 

Bucky smiles, and presses a wet kiss to the tip of Steve’s dick. That alone feels so good that Steve couldn’t possibly have anticipated the euphoria that came when Bucky lowered his mouth over Steve, taking almost all of him at once. No gag reflex, Steve remembers absently. Bucky had discovered that particular feat when they were 12 and messing around with a banana. 

At first, Bucky just lets his mouth hover there, like he’s waiting for Steve to back off the edge. Steve appreciates it, because he’s already close and he doesn’t think he’ll last, not when Bucky’s mouth feels so damn good. When he starts bobbing his head, it feels  _ better. _ Better than anything Steve could’ve ever imagined. His hands let go of the sheets and bury themselves in Bucky’s hair instead.

What Bucky can’t fit in his mouth, he uses his hand on. Steve normally closes his eyes when they’re getting off, because he can’t handle the way Bucky looks at him like he’s the only thing that matters. But now, he can’t tear his eyes away from the stretch of Bucky’s mouth, and the way he’s moving. Steve can’t even be embarrassed that he’s so close to orgasm already, because who wouldn’t be when Bucky Barnes is going down on them?

“You look so beautiful,” Steve whispers, and it’s almost out of place, because Steve never says that. Bucky throws compliments around like confetti, but Steve never does. Only sometimes, like when Bucky has to wear his Sunday best or when he knows Bucky’s sad. So for him to just come out with something like that is out of character, but for some reason, he can’t  _ not _ say it. Not when Bucky looks so good. “You look so good, Buck. So handsome, so—”

That’s all he can manage before he comes. He has enough sense to feel a bit awful about it, because he didn’t warn Bucky before it happened. Bucky splutters as he tries to swallow it, and more ends up on his chin than in his mouth, but he doesn’t let Steve apologize. Instead, he just cleans himself off and then moves up Steve’s body again, holding him tightly and pressing kisses everywhere he can reach. 

“Do you want me to— I want to suck you off, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs, “but it’s a bit too late for that.”

Steve looks down, sees the wet spot on the front of Bucky’s trousers. Bucky had come just from sucking Steve off. That’s almost enough to make Steve get hard again, and maybe he would’ve, if his body wasn’t shit and he didn’t have a refractory period. 

“How about tomorrow?” Bucky offers, smoothing hair out of Steve’s face. 

Steve nods. “Yeah. Tomorrow. Whenever you want.”

Bucky kisses him again, slower this time. “I love you, you know,” Bucky whispers, running his fingers along the shell of Steve’s ear. “And I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

It hits Steve like a ton of bricks. Bucky’s orders. He ships out tomorrow.  _ Tomorrow. _ He holds onto the age old promise that tomorrow never truly comes, and in turn, he holds onto Bucky. 

“Just don’t win the war until I get there, okay?” He whispers, and Bucky chuckles. 

“Sure, pal. And, hey, don’t do anything stupid when I’m gone. I can’t be here to clean you up from fights or remind you to eat three square a day, if you can manage it. And don’t get sick, okay, since I won’t be here to nurse you back to health. I swear to God above, if you get sick and die while I’m overseas I will come back and kill you.”

“The same goes for you, Buck,” Steve whispers, trying not to cry. “Don’t die over there, or I’ll kill you. Don’t think I won’t.”

“I know you will,” Bucky mumbles, kissing Steve’s knuckles. “But I promise you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. I’ve gotta come home to best guy, and damn it, that’s what I’m gonna do. Just you wait and see.”

**Home run.**

It’s 2017, and a lot has changed. Their run-down apartment in Brooklyn is now a swanky apartment in Manhattan, Steve’s a goddamn super soldier, and Bucky’s been to hell and back again. But they’re together, like always, because there’s no timeline that exists where Steve and Bucky aren’t in love. 

Bucky doesn’t remember much from the 30s and 40s, but that’s okay. Steve helps him remember, and fills in the blanks. For the most part, Bucky remembers how much he loved Steve, from the time they were kids to the day Bucky fell from that train. He remembers the newspaper Steve used to stuff his shoes with, and he remembers the time they laid on the fire escape and kissed until Sarah Rogers nearly caught them. 

They both remember always having to hide their relationship, so they take advantage of their newfound freedom and go on dates every chance they get. Bucky’s not necessarily the romantic type anymore, but he still likes dancing, so Steve takes him dancing. 

That’s where they’d gone tonight, though they’d done more kissing than dancing. It was as if Bucky didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself now that they didn’t  _ have  _ to. He was groping and feeling and touching all night long, and Steve was helpless to do anything other than let him. And Steve loves it, always gets drunk on the way Bucky wants him. 

When they get home, the heat hasn’t faded, but there’s more hesitation. Like Bucky isn’t sure where they go from here. 

So, they take a shower. Nothing sexual, just washing off the sweat and alcohol and whatever else. Then they get in sweats and curl up in bed, and that seems like it’s going to be the end of that. 

But Steve doesn’t want it to be. 

“Buck?” He asks, through the darkness of their bedroom. Bucky hums. “Do you remember going to that Dodgers game in ‘34?”

“We went to plenty of games, Stevie.”

“Yeah, but this one was different,” Steve whispers, and Bucky starts drawing shapes on Steve’s forearm. “You’d found a nickel on the ground and bought us popcorn, and we sat outside in the grass and listened to the announcer.”

“Hmm. I don’t think I remember that.”

Steve closes his eyes. “That was the day you kissed me for the first time. Right outside in broad daylight, too, like the idiot you were.”

“I don’t remember.”

And Bucky sounds so discouraged, so upset with himself and Steve just can’t let that stand. He threads his fingers through Bucky’s, squeezes lightly. “You don’t have to remember. Just as long as you remember the important stuff, like how much you love me.” Bucky smiles a little, insists he could never forget that. “You were my first kiss, you know. My first everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “everything. You were my first friend, of course. My first best friend. My first kiss, my first love, my first boyfriend… In fact, you were my first significant other. I’d never had a girlfriend, either. Believe it or not, girls aren’t exactly crazy about 100 lb asthmatics.”

Bucky just shrugs. “Good, because no one else could have you. I always wanted you to myself.”

“You had me,” Steve whispers. “And you were the first person to touch me.” He emphasizes this point by putting his leg between Bucky’s, pressing his knee upwards. When he hears the hitch in Bucky’s breath, he continues. “The first one to put your mouth on me. And the first person to get fingers in me.”

“And the first person to…?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. You and I never got that far, not before you went to war. In fact, you fingered me in a tent in the middle of a war zone, so… Yeah. We never quite got that far.” He smooths the hair out of Bucky’s face, runs his thumb along Bucky’s chin. “But no one else has, either. No one’s ever had me like that.”

Something changes in Bucky’s expression, and Steve knows that he’s finally struck a chord. He pushes his knee up more, and rests a hand on Bucky’s cheek. 

“You know,” he grins, “modern day lubrication is a lot better than Vaseline.”

Bucky’s mouth is on his almost the second he finishes his sentence, and Steve gladly returns the kisses. Bucky straddles his waist and grinds down, making Steve moan into it. It’s not that they haven’t been physical since Bucky’s been better, it’s just that they haven’t done  _ much. _ Bucky’s not ready for all of that, or at least, he hadn’t been. They were taking things slow, which is easy when Steve knows he has all the time in the world. 

“I remember,” Bucky mumbles against Steve’s lips, “how I used to fantasize about this. Sitting in my room at night, imagining takin’ you dancing, going to the powder room and getting my hand down your pants. Fuck.” He grinds down particularly hard, and both of them groan. “Shirt off.”

Steve obliges, tossing his shirt across the room haphazardly. Bucky does the same, and then starts working on Steve’s sweats. Steve lifts his hips, letting Bucky pulls his pants all the way off. He mouths at Steve’s cock through the fabric of Steve’s underwear, and Steve can’t help but remember the first time they did this, and how many marks Bucky left. 

“Mark me,” Steve begs, and Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Not where anyone can see, just… On my leg. Please.”

Steve knows Bucky would never deny him anything, so he isn’t surprised when Bucky sets to work on sucking a mark right there where Steve’s thigh meets the hem of his underwear. Once the mark is done, his boxers are gone, and Bucky’s swallowing him down. 

“Oh, god,” Steve groans, knotting his hands in Bucky’s hair. It’s so long now, and Steve loves playing with it. It’d never occurred to him how nice Bucky’s long hair would be during sex. “If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last.”

“Oh? Super soldier serum can’t give you any stamina?” Bucky teases, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Once again, Bucky won’t deny him anything, especially not something like that. So their lips meet again, and Steve works on getting Bucky’s sweats off in one move. He’s not wearing any underwear, so Steve doesn’t hesitate to wrap his hand around Bucky’s dick and jerk him until he’s fully hard and dripping. 

“Get the lube,” Steve whispers, and Bucky doesn’t hesitate. 

When the first finger presses in, it’s a welcome feeling. Steve’s only ever really done this to himself, and it’s nice to have fingers that can actually hit all the right spots. The second finger follows pretty closely. Steve knows he can take it, and Bucky trusts Steve’s go-ahead. 

When the third finger goes in, Bucky finally starts searching for this prostate. With a lot of crooking and searching, he finds it, and Steve can’t help the way he lights up like a Christmas tree at the first couple of nudges. 

Bucky’s face contorts in a way Steve’s never seen before. “Holy shit, Steve,” Bucky gasps. “You look…” He crooks his fingers again, and delights in the way Steve arches, the way he moans Bucky’s name. “You look so beautiful. I can’t believe I can’t remember seeing you like this before.”

“That's nice and all, Buck, but if you don’t go faster I might actually kill you.”

“Yeah, okay. Okay.” He goes faster, crooking his fingers and thrusting, and Steve can’t fight his moans. The funny thing is, he’s never been the loud one—Bucky’s always been the screamer. But it’s like this touch has lit a fire inside Steve that he didn’t know existed. “God, Stevie.”

“I’m ready,” Steve nods. “I’m ready. Go ahead. Condoms are in the drawer.” Bucky hands him the condom, as if he remembers Steve telling him, back in the tent in the ‘40s when he got fingered for the first time, that he wanted to put the condom on. 

Steve opens it with his teeth and then rolls it on, watching Bucky moan at the touch. Within the next few moments, the blunt head is nudging against his rim, and he’s so overwhelmed that he needs to pull Bucky down for a kiss. Bucky goes easily, kissing him deeply as he starts to push in. It burns, but it’s a pleasant burn. When Bucky is fully seated, he stays still, waiting for Steve’s permission to move. 

“Bucky, do you remember— Shit, do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah. It was before I left for war.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, and he moves his hands to cradle Bucky’s face between his palms. “I didn’t say it back, did I?”

“You did—”

“No, I didn’t. I said it the next day, about a million times before you left, but… I didn’t say it back that first time.” Bucky’s quiet, and he just leans down to kiss Steve again. 

“You didn’t have to,” he says, after a long moment of kissing. Steve could spend all day kissing him, he thinks. “I knew.”

Steve nods. “You can move.”

Bucky starts moving instantly, and he doesn’t take it too slow. Steve hadn’t expected him to. It isn’t long before the pace picks up and the sound of skin slapping fills the room. Bucky’s not being quiet now, moaning freely, just like he used to. It, in turn, makes Steve louder—and he knows he won’t last too long. 

Steve wraps his legs around Bucky’s waist, digging his heels into the back of his thighs to push him in faster, harder. Bucky obliges, dropping his face to bury in Steve’s neck. He kisses and bites there, sucking marks like he used to, and Steve feels himself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

“Can you,  _ fuck, _ can you come like this?” Bucky asks, supporting his weight with one hand and using the other to caress Steve’s cheek. It’s so soft and intimate that Steve could almost cry—Bucky isn’t always that soft, not anymore. 

“Maybe,” Steve nods. “I think so.”

Bucky takes a hold of Steve’s left leg, and lifts it over his shoulder. The change in angle nearly makes Steve come on the spot, as every single thrust nails his prostate dead on. 

“Come on, baby,” Bucky whispers, his lips pressed right against Steve’s ear. “Come for me. Let me see you, baby, let me see you come.”

“Buck, I need—”

“Do you need me to touch you, baby?”

Steve shakes his head, batting Bucky’s hand away before he can start stroking. “I can do it, I just need— Kiss me.”

Bucky moans, leaning down to press their lips together. The kiss is also uncharacteristically soft, given the circumstances, but Bucky’s pace is brutal and quick. Steve’s right on the edge, he just needs that push, he needs—

Bucky nails his prostate again, and Steve’s back arches as his mouth opens in a silent scream. He comes hard enough that he sees stars, covering his stomach and parts of Bucky’s chest in white. When he comes back down a couple of seconds later, Bucky’s mid-orgasm, hips stuttering against Steve’s. 

He collapses down on top of Steve, breath heavy as he peppers Steve’s neck in kisses. “Fuck, baby,” Bucky whispers, “I can’t believe we never did this before.”

“Me too,” Steve laughs, running his hands up and down Bucky’s bare back. “Felt good.”

“Felt good for me, too. You’re amazing.”

Steve hums, leaning up to kiss Bucky a couple more times. Bucky pulls out after, tossing the condom in the trash and then wiping Steve’s stomach down with a t-shirt. Then they cuddle again, tucked up under the covers and wrapped up in each other. 

“I love you, you know,” Steve whispers, and Bucky kisses his neck, then his cheek, then his nose, and then his lips. 

“I love you, baby,” Bucky whispers back. “I always have. I’m sorry it took us so long to get here.”

“It’s okay. It’s like you said, I’m with you til the end of the line.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. There isn’t an end of the line. Hell, even if there  _ is,  _ I’m with you and I love you right past it.” Steve’s just about to comment on the sweetness of the comment, when Bucky suddenly chuckles. “Besides, I think the end of the line was about 20 years ago. We’re fuckin’ old.”

Steve laughs, hits his shoulder. “You’re the old one. You’re lucky to be with a young, spritely 99 year old like myself.” He pokes Bucky’s chest. “You, on the other hand, Mr. Centennial—”

Bucky presses their lips together again, and Steve thinks it’s a pretty damn good way to tell someone to shut up. 

**Bonus: Grand Slam**

For most of Steve and Bucky’s friendship and relationship, Bucky’s been the one introducing Steve to things. It’s mostly because Steve was sick so often that he didn’t get out much, and when he did get out, not many people wanted to socialize with him. It did put him a bit behind some of the people his age, but Steve never worried about it. He had Bucky to teach him. 

Bucky taught him how to ride a bike, how to get past a locked door with only a soda can, and how to make $2 last a month or two. More than that, Bucky taught him how to dance, how to kiss, and how to explore your sexuality. He’s shown Steve the ropes through every part of life, and only now is Steve able to finally return the favor. 

This time, he’s the one with the advantage. He’s spent his time in the 21st century learning about modern culture and developments, whereas Bucky spent his time as a brainwashed assassin. Now that Bucky’s better, he has to learn everything that Steve has learned. And Steve can be there to help him. 

So far, Steve’s taught him how to use the subway, how to work a television, how to work a computer, and other, more menial things—like how to dress. Bucky’s a fast learner, even if he still does boil most things, and even if he still tells Steve that he really should start smoking cigarettes again to make sure his asthma doesn’t come back. 

“Cigarettes cause cancer and asthma, Buck,” Steve had tried to tell him not two months ago, when Bucky had presented him with a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes, the same brand he’d smoked before the war. 

Bucky, who’d sat right next to Steve when the doctor prescribed him cigarettes in 1935, had looked as confused as ever. Steve had tried not to laugh at the time, but looking back on it never fails to make him chuckle. 

Today, he wants to introduce him to something brand new. And he’s not entirely sure how Bucky will react, but he’s decided to take a risk. After everything Bucky’s taught him about sex, it’s the least he can do to try and offer something up to the table himself. After all, if he didn’t, he’d be depriving Bucky of valuable 21st century cultural information, and that just wouldn’t do. 

So, he plans it all out. He washes all of the sheets, and then makes the bed all neat and tidy. He lights a couple of candles to set the mood. He puts condoms and lube right on his nightstand for easy access, in hopes that the night goes to plan. On Bucky’s nightstand, he puts a movie, in case Bucky decides this isn’t what he wants to do. 

When Bucky gets home from his workout session with Nat, Steve’s so excited that he drags Bucky straight to the bedroom without any preamble. Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t seem to oppose the idea, and follows along willingly. 

“Someone’s happy to see me,” Bucky teases as they make it into the bedroom. 

Steve nods. “Yeah, I’ve been waiting.” He aids on the edge of the bed, smiles when Bucky sits down next to him. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Bucky asks, seeming surprised. “Judging by the not-so-subtle display of lube and condoms over there, I didn’t think we’d be doing much talking.” 

“We’ll get to that.”  _ I hope. _

“Alright,” Bucky nods. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“There’s something I’ve been...wanting to try,” he says slowly, hesitantly. “Something sexual. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Bucky sits straighter. “Okay,” he says, slowly and clearly intrigued. It makes him a little nervous, but he knows that there’s no reason to be nervous about this sort of thing with Bucky, so he forces it down. 

“Well, you know oral sex?”

“Yes, Steve, I’m familiar,” Bucky laughs, resting a hand on Steve’s thigh. “Is there something you’ve been wanting me to do to you? Have you been enjoying it, or do you need more…?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. Believe me, you’re perfect. It’s just…” He swallows hard, and forces himself to look into Bucky’s eyes. “There’s another type of oral that I think I want to try.”

Bucky, bless him, looks confused. “Another type? Baby, I only got one dick and one mouth. Unless your serum’s caused some type of wacky late-term side effect, I have to admit I don’t exactly follow.”

“Okay, you know how girls like it when you perform oral on them?” He asks, and Bucky nods. Steve knows that Bucky performed that particular sex act in the 40s, more than once. It kind of makes him ansty, wanting both Bucky’s tongue on him and his tongue on Bucky. “You can do the same thing to a guy.”

“What? How? Guys don’t have those parts, we have a dick and balls and— Oh.” He takes a second to process, and then gives Steve an utterly flabbergasted look. “You mean to tell me that guys lick other guys’ asses?!”

Steve nods, a bit more nervous now. He’d known that the idea was completely foreign to Bucky, and that he’d probably react like this, he just hopes Bucky’s not completely turned off to the idea. 

“Holy shit. I can’t imagine that actually feeling good. Ain’t it gross?”

“Not if you clean yourself properly,” Steve explains, and Bucky blinks. “Just, more thorough than if you were about to have sex. I don’t know. If you’re not into it, we don’t have to do it. I just figured I’d talk to you about it because I’ve been thinkin’ about it, and it’s fine if we don’t do it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to do it, Stevie,” Bucky interjects, his hand sliding further up his thigh and making his breath catch. “It’s just a new idea, that’s all.”

Steve nods. “I understand. It’s overwhelming. I just thought I’d like to try.”

“Did you want me to do it to you, or…?”

“I think I want to do it to you. If you want me to, that is.”

For a long moment, Bucky’s quiet. It makes Steve nervous, and he feels his stomach pulling in knots as he waits for Bucky to say something,  _ anything. _ But then, Bucky just stands, and strips himself completely naked. 

“I washed before I got here, something told me that our night would go sexual,” Bucky says, and Steve’s heart honest to god lodges in his goddamn throat. “How do you want me?”

Steve gulps, standing up, too. “Just… Lay down on the bed, on your stomach.” Bucky does as asked, and goes easily when Steve lifts his hips so he can slide a pillow there. “And now I’ll just get right to it, I suppose.”

Bucky laughs. “Really romantic there, Rogers. I love the foreplay, the prep.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs, crawling between Bucky’s legs and laying on his stomach. Being intimate with Bucky never gets old, and it never fails to make Steve’s stomach erupt with butterflies, no matter how many times they do it. It’s nice to still find sex exciting, even when you’ve had the same sexual partner since your first sexual awakening.  _ Especially  _ when your first sexual encounter was over 70 years ago. “I’m nervous and you’re not making this any easier.”

“Hey, dude, you’re the one that wants your tongue on my butt.”

To shut him up, Steve bites into Bucky’s left ass cheek. Bucky yelps in surprise, to which Steve smirks at him, even though he can’t see. “You tease me now, but just you wait.” He spreads Bucky carefully, trying not to get intimidated and chicken out. He’s Captain fucking America, if he can save the world multiple times and crash a plane into fucking ice, he can eat his boyfriend’s ass.

He starts off with a tentative kitten lick across Bucky’s rim. He knows it probably just feels weird and not at all pleasurable, but he repeats the action, trying to get a feel for what he’s doing. After that, he switches to broader stripes, swirling around Bucky’s rim multiple times. His jaw is already starting to ache, but Bucky’s starting to make a bit of a noise, and Steve’ll be damned if he gives up now. 

“How does it feel?” He asks, and Bucky whimpers in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘keep going’,” he laughs, diving back in. He pretty much sticks to his swirls and licks for a good few minutes, because he’s kind of just winging it and has no idea what to do next. Besides, it seems to feel good, and Steve can work with that. 

When Bucky starts pushing back on his tongue, subconsciously begging for more, Steve changes tactics. He flexes his tongue forward, pressing it into Bucky’s hole. He’s not sure if this is crossing a line or if Bucky will get uncomfortable, so he listens carefully, waiting for any sign of distress. 

Instead, he gets a loud cry of his name, and Bucky’s thighs spasm. Encouraged, Steve goes faster and harder, mixing all three of his moves and really going to town. His spit is covering Bucky’s ass and his own face, but he can’t be bothered with how gross it feels, not when Bucky is being so loud and practically thrashing around with how good it feels. 

He pulls away long enough to slick up his fingers, which is only a few seconds, but apparently long enough to get Bucky desperate. “Steve,” he whines, reaching back to try and latch onto Steve’s hair, “get back here right the fuck now.”

“I’m here, Buck,” Steve pants, leaning forward again. “Trust me.” Bucky nods, so Steve slips one finger in, and then starts licking around the stretch of Bucky around his finger. He quickly works his way up to two, and Bucky is all but screaming by now. 

“Close,” Bucky cries out, but Steve won’t touch him. He knows Bucky can come like this, he just has to find that spot inside of him that makes him see stars. He starts crooking his fingers while he sucks on Bucky’s rim, trying to find his spot. 

When he finally finds it, Bucky screams and spasms again, and Steve knows he’s coming by the quick jerks his hips are making into the pillow. Steve works him through it, only pulling away when he’s sure Bucky’s come down from the aftershocks. He wipes his face on their (now dirty) sheets, and crawls up the bed to lay face to face with Bucky. 

“Was it good?” He asks, though he knows the answer. 

Bucky chuckles, closing his eyes. “Your tongue is fucking magic, Rogers. I don’t know how in the hell I’ve lived so long without it.” He hums when Steve reaches out to caress his cheek. “I wish I coulda lasted longer though. Guess we’ll just have to practice a lot, build up my stamina.”

Steve snorts. “Oh, yeah? You think that’s a good solution?” He asks, and Bucky nods sleepily. “How many times a day, you think?”

“All day, everyday,” Bucky mumbles. “Until I don’t come in two minutes like I just did. Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t blow my load the second you started sticking your tongue in there. Who’d’ve known something so gross would feel so good?”

“I’m glad it felt good.”

“Mm.” He cracks one eye open, smiles. “Give me just a second and I’ll help you out, okay?”

“Okay. Take your time, Buck. I know it was a lot.”

“Yeah. Hey, give me a kiss.” Steve leans down, ready to do just that, when all of a sudden a hand is being pressed to his face. He opens his eyes, giving Bucky confused eyes. “It just occurred to me that your mouth was literally on my ass, so I’m gonna need you to wash your face and brush your teeth before we kiss. Hygiene and shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but climbs out of bed nonetheless. “You’ve literally had your mouth on my dick and your tongue in my mouth, but all of a sudden you care about kissing after oral? And when in the hell have you ever cared about hygiene?”

“Uh, since always?”

“I have very clear memory of you coming home from the docks covered in dirt and grime and smelling like fish, only to not take a shower and climb right into your nasty bed.”

Bucky shrugs. “Maybe I liked the fish smell.” Steve rolls his eyes again. “Clearly you liked the fish smell, seeing as you fell in love with me and alla that.”

“I loved you before you developed your horrible hygiene habits, Buck.”

“Well, that’s just your own bad luck.”

Steve brushes his teeth and then climbs back into bed, only to find himself promptly on his back with Bucky on top of him. “I don’t think it’s bad luck at all, just so you know,” Steve whispers, and Bucky hums against his lips. “Even when I had nothing, I had you. And that was everything.”

“Very romantic for a guy who just ate my ass.”

“You said before that you wanted romance!”

“I just want you,” Bucky shrugs, reaching down to get a hand on Steve’s dick. Steve didn’t even realize how hard he was until Bucky was finally touching him, and now he’s desperate. “I’ll take you any way I can have you, romantic or lewd or somewhere in between. So long as it’s you.”

“Very romantic.”

Bucky smiles, leans down to kiss him. “Yeah, you seem to have that effect on me.” And then they don’t talk anymore, because Bucky moves down his body, and his mouth gets busy doing something else. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @femmevilde


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